


Blue and Green and In-Between

by Layla_Sanura



Series: Clearblue [2]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layla_Sanura/pseuds/Layla_Sanura
Summary: Following the successful healing of her first St. Louis master vampire, Dr. Aldan doesn't think she's likely to see or hear from Asher again--until her brother suggests they celebrate their birthday at Danse Macabre.
Relationships: Asher (Anita Blake)/Original Character(s)
Series: Clearblue [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725550
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Blue and Green and In-Between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustAReader17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAReader17/gifts).



> The events of _Blue and Green and In-Between_ begin a month after _From the Ashes_.

**Chapter 1: Already Late**

Clearblue Aldan let herself into her brother Clover’s apartment with her emergency key. In truth, it wasn’t so much an _emergency_ key as an I-forgot-some-shit-at-my-place key, or for that matter, an I’m-in-the-shower, let-yourself-in key.

They had grown up in the nearby suburb of Maplewood, Missouri, fifteen minutes outside of St. Louis. After attending himself for undergraduate and graduate school, Clover now taught courses in literature and philosophy at Washington University. Clearblue had relocated back to St. Louis six months ago to start her therapy and metaphysical healing practice, after receiving her PhD from the University of Richmond in Virginia. She rented an apartment just two miles from Clover’s.

She unbuttoned her black wool fitted coat and threw it on the arm of the couch as she made her way to the kitchen. She was dressed in a short royal-blue sweater dress with three-quarter length sleeves and gold buttons in a prim line up the front, ending at the V-neckline. A thin gold-buckled red belt cinched her waist and gold bangles caught the light on her left wrist. Ruby studs shone in her earlobes and matched an elegant ruby pendant on a gold chain around her neck. Four-inch crimson stiletto pumps finished the ensemble and lifted her to five-eleven. She had pulled her long chestnut hair up into a French twist with a few waves out around her face.

Her heels _clacked_ softly on the black-and-white tiled floor as she riffled through the fridge, retrieved a carton of grapefruit juice and poured herself a glass. She sipped her drink and idly stood by the window over the sink, which looked out onto the apartment community’s courtyard of mature dogwood and beech trees. There was a central open grassy area with the occasional clump of wildflowers—or at least that’s how she remembered it, in the spring and summer. Now, at the start of November, the trees had regressed to the brown and gray skeletons of their former selves, the field was matted with dead grass, and the wildflowers were nowhere to be seen. The courtyard would be pretty again when the first snow fell, but for now it was trapped in end-of-autumn Limbo.

Clearblue turned her head toward the bedroom when she heard the shower shut off, followed by footsteps moving about.

A moment later, Clover stepped out into the hallway, clad in white undershirt and gray sweatpants. “Hey, Clear, I need your help.”

She rolled her eyes. Clover was born second. He had put their mother through twenty-five extra minutes of labor, a fact their parents like to joke had set the precedent for his perpetual tardiness throughout life.

“We’re meeting them there in twenty minutes, Clover! You’re telling me you still don’t know what you’re wearing?”

“I have it narrowed down, I just need your opinion on which,” he replied from the other room.

She followed him in and stood in front of the bed, upon which two outfits were laid: on the left, a pair of khaki slacks, a white dress shirt, and handsome hunter green sweater. On the right, dark blue slacks, a white dress shirt, and matching blue blazer. Both were business-casual and appropriate for their destination, but she liked the sweater outfit more.

“The green sweater, definitely. It brings out your eyes and complements your skin tone.”

Clover smiled brightly. “Thanks. Now scram while I change.”

Clearblue returned to the kitchen, where she finished her juice and rinsed the glass in the sink. Her gaze fell again to the desolate courtyard. Growing up, she’d liked being among the youngest of her class in school, but that didn’t equate to enjoying bleak skies overhead and dead vegetation underfoot. November in the Mid-West was not the most beautiful time of year, that was for sure.

“Hey now!” Clover appeared in kitchen threshold, making final adjustments to the collar of his shirt so that it lay flat under the sweater. “And we still have fifteen minutes to spare. We’ll get there in plenty of time; Danse Macabre is just down the street.”

Anyone could see they were siblings, and some people guessed they were twins right away. Both were tall and slender with similarly shaped noses and lips, and wide eyes that contributed to their youthful appearance. His hair was a rich deep brown that shone with gold tinge in strong light, while hers had more red and looked auburn at times. The inspiration behind their names, Clearblue’s eyes were the color of bright summer sky, and Clover’s the lush green of the plant.

She knocked on one of the wooden cabinets within arm’s reach. “Famous last words!”

“Well then let’s blow this joint.”

Clover walked into the living room with Clearblue on his heels. He helped her into her coat and grabbed his own from the closet.

**Chapter 2: Mutual Acquaintances**

Clover passed a couple bills to the driver before Clearblue had the chance. She shot him an inquisitive look, and followed him out of the car to stand on the curb.

“I’ve never seen you in such a rush to pay before,” she remarked playfully. “Who are you and what have you done with my annoyingly frugal brother?”

“I paid for the ride here, that means you pay for the one home.”

“And why’s that? I thought we were going to split everything, as usual.”

“Because the rest of my money is going to alcohol.” He grinned like a schoolboy.

Clearblue lowered her voice. “Clo, you know how much weres have to drink to feel anything. You’re telling me you plan on getting trashed tonight?”

“I’m telling you that I plan on trying. I mean, c’mon, I’ve never been legitimately drunk; I figure it’s something I should experience before I’m thirty. And frankly,” he paused to give her the weight of his eyes, “you should jump on board.”

“Excuse me?”

Clover shook his head. “Or not, but _please_ try to have fun tonight. We only turn twenty-eight once!”

Clearblue followed him to the back of the line outside Danse Macabre. “You say that every year,” she muttered. “Where are your friends?”

“I was just wondering about that. I’ll text them.” Clover went to work on his phone and received a response right away. “Monica says they’re already inside; she’s coming out to get us. Apparently she knows the owner, so she got into VIP.” He looked at Clearblue and grinned.

He linked arms with her, and they walked past the mostly human patrons shivering in line, up to an attractive woman in her early thirties with short black hair styled in a chic pixie-cut. She waved at them frantically: she’d stepped out without her coat and was wearing a _very_ little black dress with exposed legs and peep-toe shoes. The cold prevented immediate introductions. The woman grabbed Clover’s hand and led them directly into the club and up a curved, red-carpeted staircase where she gave their names to the bouncer, who held open a red rope for them.

The upper VIP area was essentially a wide balcony that ran the inside perimeter, with a railing over which one could look down and view the dancing throngs of people on the main floor. Deep black vinyl booths and polished wood tables hugged the wall, separated by red velvet curtain partitions to provide some, but not too much, privacy. The pumping music was softer on the second level, as the DJ booth was downstairs, closer to the dancers. It was a more subdued atmosphere, too, and Clearblue was glad—she wasn’t in a mood to move around and sweat after putting in the effort of dressing up. Monica led them to their booth, already occupied by two other women.

She stood at the head of the table and made the introductions: “Ladies,” she announced to the redhead and blonde, “meet Clover and Clearblue; it’s their birthday. I met Clover at the University, and Clearblue I just met tonight.” She clapped happily and smiled, a bit too widely, which made Clearblue think she was already half in the bag. “Clover and Clearblue, these are Catherine and J.J. Catherine works at my law firm, and J.J. is the partner of my friend, Jason.”

Catherine, who had beautiful shoulder-length copper hair that gleamed even in the low lighting, smiled at them with elegant cheekbones and beckoned Monica to sit beside her. “So nice of you to share your birthday with us. How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” they answered together. 

Catherine and J.J. looked at one another and laughed good-naturedly.

“Clearblue, sit by me, I’m dying to know where you got that dress,” J.J. said, and moved around to the center of the booth.

Clearblue slid in beside her and Clover followed, positioning himself across from Monica.

J.J. brushed wispy blond locks out of her eyes. “You’re stunning,” she said at an intimate volume once everyone had settled. “Are you a dancer?”

Clearblue was taken aback. “Uh, thank you. No, I just hit the gym, try to stay fit.”

“Well, it works.” She gave her a subtle once-over. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Jason.”

“Right, your boyfriend. How long have you been together?”

“The million-dollar question.” She chuckled. “We grew up together in Charleston and dated on and off. Now we’re back on, but he’s here and I’m based in New York. I’m in a ballet company there and we do long distance. I have some time before my next show starts so I decided to spend it in St. Louis.”

Clearblue smiled at her. “How lovely. —Oh!” She turned to Monica, who was giving Clover the world’s most obvious bedroom eyes. “Hey, Monica, who’s the owner of this club? Clover said you know him.”

“Oh honey,” Catherine answered before Monica could process the question, “you don’t _know?_ Jean-Claude, the Master Vampire of the City, owns this place. It’s why we come here: we love to look at the vampire eyecandy.”

**Chapter 3: Alcohol Endeavor**

Clearblue went first cold and then hot; she felt as though her heart had stopped momentarily. Her palms went clammy as it rushed back to her as easy as breathing: Asher’s hand in her hair, being enveloped in his arms, his lips, his strength, his skin under her fingers.

She hadn’t seen or tried to contact him since the healing; he seemed to have a lot going on—she got the feeling that he was involved with Jean-Claude _and_ Anita, and she wasn’t in a rush to be in the middle of that, or step on anyone’s toes.

“And speaking of—” J.J. leaned into Clearblue and pointed inconspicuously across the balcony at a tall young man with cherry-red hair. “That’s Damian. What I’d love to do to him if he’d have me.”

“Tell me about it: Danse Macabre and Guilty Pleasures make me wish I weren't married,” Catherine added wistfully.

“Clear, didn’t you do a healing on one of Jean-Claude’s friends last month?” Clover asked amid the gawking women.

Three heads swiveled to her. “Yeah,” she replied shyly.

J.J.’s mouth gaped. “No way! _You’re_ the one who healed Asher?”

She nodded, still trying to regain composure.

“Small world, huh? You did a great job. I mean, he was hot before, but now it’s just unfair how attractive that man is.”

Monica said, “I know! If I were alone with him in a room, I’d like to . . .” But her eyes flicked to Clover and her voice dropped away.

Clearblue’s pounding chest drowned out their gushing. Clover was the only one who noticed something amiss.

“Hey,” he whispered slowly at her ear. “What’s up? You seem suddenly like you don’t want to be here.”

“I just didn’t know that Jean-Claude owned this place—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I can tell there’s something else going on: I’ve only known you my whole life.”

She smiled weakly at his teasing; he was always good at making her smile. “There _is_ something more to it, but I can’t tell you here.” She nodded vaguely in the direction of the three gossiping women to her right.

“Well then let’s excuse ourselves for a few minutes.”

“How?”

He grinned. “Hey ladies,” he said to their companions. “I think it’s time to get the night started. We’re going to do a few birthday shots at the bar. Would you like anything?”

Monica didn’t hesitate. “Another rum and Coke, please.”

“I’m fine.” Catherine put her arm around Monica. “Something tells me I’ll have to be the designated driver tonight.”

“Any light beer on tap is good for me. Thanks!” J.J. answered.

“Great, we’ll be back.” Clover stood from the booth.

Clearblue followed suit and they both left their coats at the table. They made their way around the balcony, which had filled considerably, to the staircase, and spoke with the bouncer so he’d remember them. He nodded them through, and they descended to the main floor.

A large dance space crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with patrons was the first and most arresting sight. Despite the temperature outside, the young people here were dressed rather scantily. They ground on one another in step with the loud music, sloshed drinks, and were generally rowdy and boisterous. Clover took her elbow and guided her around to the left-hand wall, which like the balcony, featured tables and seating. They shuffled through the thin corridor of space between the edge of the dance floor and the sitting area, ahead to the impressive bar that took up the entire back wall.

Clover spotted an empty table shoved into the very back corner against the bar and directed her to take it. “I’ll get the drinks, you hold our seats,” he shouted so she could hear.

She nodded and sat at the table as Clover disappeared into the five-person-deep line to fetch their alcohol. Clearblue’s eyes lost focus staring into all the movement and blinking lights of the dance floor. She thought back to the night of the healing, to all that had occurred, what she had expected and what she had not. Yes, she had healed vampires before, but they had all been relatively young; while a few had been masters, none had been the master of a city, nor had the retinue of Jean-Claude and Asher. She had met the Master Vampire of Richmond, Virginia after she’d healed the vampire victims of an unprovoked attack by humans, and he had seemed fairly normal—or as normal as a vampire could be. The events she had witnessed and participated in at the Circus of the Damned a month ago had been almost incomprehensible: Asher’s test of her hyena’s strength, Anita’s possession, fighting off a hostile metaphysical attack by Belle Morte (whom she still had questions about). Jean-Claude and Anita hadn’t exactly debriefed her after the incident, although it wasn’t as if they expected to see her again, and she’d grasped that they were private people. It was all so confusing and mysterious. Quite a lot had changed in St. Louis since last she’d lived in the area.

Clover shook her from her thoughts when he retuned to the table with a tray full of drinks. “I didn’t want to have to wait in that line again, so I got everything at once,” he explained.

“And what do we have here?” she asked.

He plucked two glasses from the tray and set them aside. “Those are Monica and J.J.’s.” That left ten shot glasses covering the majority of the surface. “And the rest are ours.”

She raised eyebrows at him.

“Five shots of one-fifty-one each, which will probably only give us a buzz—damn our tolerance!”

Clearblue opened her mouth to argue, but gave up and decided to go with it. They had been panweres since they were fourteen, their bodies too strong to succumb to human doses of anything—be it cough medicine, anesthesia, or alcohol. Maybe it _was_ worth trying.

**Chapter 4: Confession**

“Okay. One,” Clearblue said hesitantly.

“Two,” Clover echoed.

“Three.”

“Go!”

They both put back a shot and set the empty glasses on the table.

Clearblue’s lips wouldn’t stop puckering. “Oh God! That’s horrible. What _is_ that?” She took a large swig from the glass of Coca-Cola Clover had gotten as their chaser.

“One-fifty-one rum. It’s seventy-five percent alcohol, whereas most liquor is thirty to forty percent.”

“Ugh.”

He changed the subject: “So tell me what was bothering you upstairs.”

“Oh, well, remember I told you about the vampire I healed last month?”

“Yeah, Jean-Claude’s second. What’s his name, again?”

“Asher.”

“Right. What about him?”

“There was something I didn’t mention, something that happened after the healing.” She bit her lip.

He acted aghast. “What’s this? You finally learned the art of secrecy? What clandestine act did you commit with this mysterious vampire?” he teased.

“He kissed me—that is, we kissed. He kissed me and I kissed him back, I mean.”

Clover smiled and nodded. “Well, good for you.”

“No, _not_ good for me: Asher is complicated. From the way he acted, I think he’s sleeping with Jean-Claude _and_ Anita Blake, and who knows how many others. He’s unbelievably sexy.”

“Anita Blake, huh? She’s been in the papers a few times. —When you say, ‘unbelievably sexy,’ what do you mean, exactly?”

“Remember your high school boyfriend, Trevor?”

His eyes went wide. “Yeah.”

“Like him, except about twelve years older and twice as hot.”

“Jesus.” He whistled under his breath.

“ _Unbelievably_ sexy.” Clearblue reiterated.

“Color me jealous. Has he called you? Have you seen him at all since then?”

“No.” Clearblue looked into her lap.

“And you’re afraid you’ll see him here and things will be awkward?”

She nodded.

He pondered a moment. “All the more reason to have another shot,” he replied with a grin.

She laughed. “Clo! They’re disgusting.”

“Well we’re not drinking for the taste; this rum is the strongest alcohol they had.”

“Alright, but let’s be quick. The girls are waiting for us upstairs.”

They consumed the eight remaining shots as rapidly as possible, and downed the rest of the Coke even faster afterward.

He stood and offered her his arm. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Clover held Monica’s drink and Clearblue held J.J.’s as they navigated back through the crowded open area to the staircase. The bouncer held the rope for them, and they walked back around to their table. J.J. waved them over, and they retook their seats in the booth, passing out drinks as they did so.

**Chapter 5: Favor**

“I hope we didn’t take too long; the line at the bar was outrageous. Is it like this every night?” Clearblue asked.

“Nah, you’re fine.” J.J. patted her hand. “Every weekend, yeah. People like Danse because the bartenders don’t skimp on the booze and all the wait staff and employees are really attractive—they’re all either vampires or wereanimals from Jean-Claude’s umbrella.”

She nodded. “Oh, I forgot to ask.” She turned to Clover. “What did Monica mean when she said she knew you from the university?”

“Right, so my friend, Kim, who teaches part-time in the Government and Law department is also a part-time lawyer at Monica and Catherine’s firm. Kim, unfortunately, was involved in a car accident two weeks ago, and Monica’s volunteered to teach her classes while she’s recovering.”

Clearblue smiled at Monica. “That’s so sweet.”

Monica was demure. “Kim’s a long-time friend, so naturally I jumped at the chance to help her out. It was rough the first few classes—I hadn’t taught since I was a TA getting my law degree—but now that I’ve gotten into the rhythm of it, it’s pretty fun. I’m actually thinking about cutting back my hours at the firm permanently so I can teach at the community college.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Catherine said.

“I’ve only been thinking about it recently, since my classes have gotten better. Clover gave me some pointers that helped me warm up to teaching, and the students like me more, too. I’ve been thinking how nice it would be not to have to work late all the time. I mean, Matthew’ll be starting school in two years and I would really like to be there to help him with his homework at least a few nights a week.”

Catherine sipped on Monica’s rum and Coke. “I guess kids _do_ change everything.” 

“Enough about kids!” J.J. groaned. “I wanna hear about Asher’s healing! You ran away before we could ask you about it.”

“That’s right! So you got to see him naked, huh?” Catherine was eager to change the subject as well.

Apparently five shots of strong alcohol in succession were enough for an effect: Clearblue felt noticeably warmer, and her extremities began to tingle. “Not completely.” She broke into a wide grin and didn’t even care that they were prying.

“But you got to touch him?” J.J. asked hopefully.

Clearblue laughed nervously. “That’s not quite how it works. We were in close proximity during the procedure, yes, but I never actually _touched_ him. When I heal, I hold my hand just above the skin; I need a small amount of space between a patient’s body to act as a buffer and control how much energy I use.” J.J. looked crestfallen, so she added, “But I got to see him in his underwear, if that’s any consolation.”

J.J. brightened. “So, is he a brief or a boxer man?”

“Oh, sorry, I can’t reveal that. Doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said facetiously, and smiled.

Catherine laughed. “Figures.”

Suddenly there was a new figure standing at the head of the table. Clearblue started when she caught sight of the woman from the corner of her eye. She should have been more aware, should have seen, or at least sensed her coming. The alcohol working its magic, she supposed. The tingling had spread in from her limbs and throughout her entire body, and she felt light and airy, like her head would float away if she weren’t careful. She squinted at the woman; she looked familiar. Tall . . . long black hair always in a ponytail . . . wererat. _Claire? No, Claudia._ Her escort into the Circus of the Damned.

Claudia noticed her staring and inclined her head in a kind of greeting. She was talking to J.J., in the middle of a sentence. _When had that happened?_

“—where Jason is?”

“No, I’m sorry. Last I heard he was at the Circus rehearsing with Nathaniel. He said he’d meet me here at some point, but wasn’t specific because he didn’t know how long practice would last. He’s not there?”

“No, at least not that I could find. I have someone checking Guilty Pleasures, just in case.” Claudia spoke quickly and fidgeted with her hands, like she was on a deadline.

“Well, I can give him a call—”

Claudia shook her head. “Tried that. We have all our _pommes_ ’ numbers. Wherever he is, his phone is off, it goes straight to voicemail.”

“I know he turns his phone off sometimes when he really needs to learn a routine. If he’s not at the Circus and his phone is still off, he’s probably on his way over here and just forgot to turn it back on. If you hang around, I’m sure he’ll show in a few minutes.” 

But Claudia wasn’t listening to J.J. anymore; she had turned her attention to Clearblue. “You’re the doctor, right, who healed Asher?”

She didn’t trust her voice, so just nodded.

“I apologize for interrupting your evening, but I need a favor. It’s a semi-emergency. Can you come with me?”

Clearblue glanced at Clover, who shrugged. “I suppose, if you’re desperate,” she replied. She noticed her words slur and blushed.

“I am, actually. I’d really appreciate your help.”

She waved her hand at Clover and he got out of the booth so she could stand. Before she turned to Claudia, he touched her shoulder and leaned into her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah, just feeling those shots. How about you?”

“I’m feeling them too, but not as hard as you are, apparently. Do you want me to go with you?”

She shook her head, and instantly regretted it: her head stopped moving, but the room didn’t. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No, I’ll be fine.” She looked up at him. “I promise.”

He nodded, hesitantly. “I’ll hold you to that. When you get a chance, drink some water, a glass or two. It’ll re-hydrate you and help sober you up.”

“Will do.” 

He stood aside and she stepped closer to Claudia, who looked at her skeptically but kept her mouth shut. Claudia put a hand on her arm and guided her away from the table.

**Chapter 6: _Pomme de Sang, S'il vous plaît_**

Claudia ushered her through a hidden door along the back wall of the balcony, down a cramped hallway and into the rear of the club. She pulled her along at a brisk pace, and twice Clearblue nearly tripped in her heels trying to keep up.

“What’s going on?” she asked the wererat who once again escorted her. Hello, _déjà vu_.

“Asher’s weak. Jean-Claude has a rule that his vamps only drink blood offered freely and consensually, but I’m at a loss for werehyenas, which is why I was looking for Jason—he’s usually willing to help out when there’s a need—but lacking him, you’re my next-best bet. I apologize for asking you to work when you’re out for the night, but I know Asher and Jean-Claude will be grateful.”

They stopped short at a non-descript black door and Claudia knocked. She edged Clearblue behind her just before Jean-Claude appeared in the threshold and smiled.

“Perfect, Claudia,” he said pleasantly.

“There’s been a change of plans. The hyenas made themselves scarce and I couldn’t find Jason.”

His face went blank. “Damn Narcissus,” he muttered, followed in a more controlled tone by, “Well then whom could you find?”

Claudia pulled Clearblue gracelessly into plain view. She teetered on her heels with the momentum and had to thrust an arm out to catch herself on the doorframe. Wereanimal finesse went out the window when under the influence. She felt her cheeks warm as she blinked up at Jean-Claude and blew loose strands of hair from her face.

He raised his eyebrows at her in a momentarily candid expression before he broke into a reserved grin. “How unexpected; I trust you have been well?”

“Yes,” she replied slowly, trying—and thankfully succeeding—to enunciate correctly. “And yourself?”

“Very well, thank you.” His eyes returned to Claudia, but she couldn’t see the wererat’s expression. She was too busy willing her world to stop spinning. “You are excused.”

Claudia didn’t reply, but Clearblue felt her leave her side and heard footsteps retreat the way they had come.

“Anita will find this turn of events . . . interesting, I am sure.” Jean-Claude placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and directed her into the room.

She laughed at his word choice. “Meaning she’ll either think it’s amusing, or find a reason to be pissed.”

“ _Oui_.” He permitted himself a small chuckle. “You are a skilled observer.”

“That’s what they pay me for,” she replied offhandedly.

She glanced around the room and found it to be a large and comfortable office: from the meticulously elegant furnishings, Jean-Claude’s. There was a handsome dark wood desk and leather chair in the back right corner. The remaining space was taken up with sofas, lounging chairs, ottomans, and coffee tables, all of which combined she estimated could seat up to ten people. Reclined on one such sofa was a figure she recognized: he had his long legs stretched out before him, his head supported by a propped pillow, glittering hair splayed beneath him, and his left arm thrown over his eyes.

Jean-Claude called to him softly, “ _Mon ami_.”

Asher lethargically dropped his arm to the floor and turned his head in the direction of Jean-Claude’s voice. Clearblue saw the surprise flood his face, with admiration hot behind, as he took in the sight of her. His expression more than pleased her, and for all the world she couldn’t stop the warm smile that creased her lips in response.

She turned to Jean-Claude to thank him for accompanying her, but he had left, even closed the office door upon his exit. She should’ve heard him go. She knew vampires could move swiftly and quietly, but she had wereanimal hearing—or used to. She really began to dislike the alcohol rendering her oblivious, imbalanced, and human-slow.

**Chapter 7: Overcome**

“Dr. Aldan.” His gaze was explicit and honed.

She concentrated harder than she should’ve needed to on not sounding giddy. “Asher.”

“What brings you to Danse Macabre?”

“Clover and I are here with friends celebrating our birthday.” 

Asher stood and walked the short distance to join her. “Indeed? Happy birthday. You look well. A bit out of sorts, but well.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, hands resting on her shoulders.

She laughed and hugged him in return. “Well, I’ve had five shots of high-proof alcohol within a ten-minute period.”

He raised questioning eyebrows at her.

“Clover and I have never been intoxicated before. It comes so easily to humans, but being wereanimals makes drinking alcohol nearly pointless. He wanted to experience it, and thought tonight would be a good time, so I agreed to join him. I admit, I was curious too.”

“Ah. Yes, that quantity of alcohol would take a human woman your size to the ground.” He extended an arm to the sofa behind them. “Shall we?”

“Right.” She nodded. “Of course.”

They sat together. Clearblue noticed that Asher’s movements were unusually stiff, especially for a vampire, and especially for him. “When did you last feed?”

He took a breath. “Fed until I was sated? I cannot remember. Narcissus is attempting to blackmail me into taking her as a lover and making her my animal to call by only allowing a handful of hyenas to feed me—the handful that are strictly heterosexual.” He closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh. “Needless to say, I have not had much hyena blood in recent weeks. I feed mostly on Anita, Nathaniel, and Jason, when he can spare it.”

Her mouth fell open in astonishment. “But how can Narcissus do that?”

“She is proving a point—she can do it because she is not my animal to call. If she were, I could metaphysically force her to do most anything I wanted, if I were inclined. But that is, of course, the crux of the issue. While we are on the subject: thank you for volunteering. I appreciate the gesture, even if it was unexpected.” He smiled at her from inches away.

“It was unexpected to me as well. Claudia asked out of the blue if I could help. Desperate times, I suppose. So,” she said, and laid her forearm on his thigh, “go ahead.”

“You prefer I drink from your arm?” He looked into his lap, then back to her.

“Oh, I’m not particular. That’s how I’ve fed vampires in the past—but we can do it however you like.” 

Asher moved closer to her. “Good.”

He touched his fingers to her chin and angled her head, exposing her neck in a long tender line. He watched her chest rise and fall, traced the curve of her collarbone, and reveled in the beating pulse at her neck. He leaned and then hesitated, prolonging the moment, and felt that pulse quicken with anticipation.

He smiled against her skin and ran his thumb over her lips. “There is something you should know,” he whispered.

His breath puffed in a warm gust against her neck and she closed her eyes. “What’s that?” she asked. She barely managed to keep the tremble from her voice.

“My bite will cause you pleasure. Is that a problem?”

He continued to stroke her lips with his left thumb, while his right hand cupped the back of her head, holding her neck in position. His chest was pressed against her left shoulder, his thigh to her thigh. She couldn’t think past his presence to answer his question competently, so she shook her head as much as his hands would allow. Asher made a satisfied sound, and kissed her neck. His thumb retreated from her mouth and he drew his fingers down her arm. She felt his lips grow eager, and then felt them pull back.

It was as if someone flipped a switch—one moment she was easing into the beginning of arousal, the next she was in the throes of orgasm. Her neck arched and she inadvertently thrust her hips upward, straining against his hands, her body jerking as pleasure spilled through her. She was no longer conscious of her surroundings; she kept her eyes squeezed shut, raised a hand to the back of his head and grabbed a handful of hair. She was only vaguely aware of calling his name, as if she heard it from across a great distance.

He continued to drink, and she continued to come. Every was wave stronger than the last, and they broke upon her over and over, an endless sea that stretched to the horizon. When he finally pulled away, she fell limp against him, quivering as the heady warmth slowly receded from her thighs.

Clearblue took several deep breaths before she could utter, “Oh my God.”

Asher smiled with a dazed expression and licked his lips, wiping them clean of blood smear. “Rum,” he said, bemused.

His eyes lost focus and he gave into quaking laughter, one that rendered him not unlike his animal to call. Neither spoke for a time. They sat there together, a drunken vampire and drunken wereanimal, both thoroughly collapsed into the sofa—Asher languid with sustenance, Clearblue with pleasure.

**Chapter 8: No Time for Pillow Talk**

“How did you do that?” Clearblue broke their happy silence.

“It is a gift of my line, of Belle Morte. Jean-Claude’s and my abilities are both sexual in nature.”

She laughed, her voice heavy and contented. “A hell of a trick.”

Asher looked at her, grinning widely, his eyes reduced to slits with the expression. “I have not been this well-fed in some time, and not just because Narcissus has been a cad of late. Your blood is . . .” He shook his head and looked heavenward. “Ambrosia, complete with intoxication.”

“You’re drunk?” She giggled.

“ _Oui_.” He leaned closer to her and attempted a stern tone, despite his relentless smile. “You have quite a high blood-alcohol level, _mademoiselle_.”

“It’s my birthday, I’m allowed.” She paused in thought, one that made her grin as well. “I have to say, this was not how I imagined you . . . pleasuring me, though it was very enjoyable. I didn’t think an orgasm like that was possible outside of Tantra.”

The edges of his smile faded, and he gave her the full weight of his eyes. “How do I pleasure you in your imagination?” He traced his forefinger along her jaw line.

“Through more . . . conventional means.”

“Ah.” He leaned toward her until his lips were inches away. “Such as?”

It was true: she smelled the faint odor of rum on his breath. His mouth was so close to her face she could taste his tongue when she closed her eyes. —

There was a sharp knock at the door, followed immediately by Jean-Claude’s voice: “ _Mon ami_? I am coming in. I hope you are disposed.”

Asher had no time to answer. Jean-Claude strode through the door and walked purposely up to them, accompanied by Claudia and an equally tall man dressed in the same all-black outfit. His face was hard, and obscured somewhat by a fringe of dark hair covering his forehead.

Claudia asked bluntly, “Did you donate Asher your blood?”

“Yes.” Clearblue looked between Jean-Claude and the guards. “I thought that’s why you brought me here.”

Claudia closed her eyes and put a hand to her forehead, and Jean-Claude spoke harshly in French. Claudia stepped forward, grabbed Clearblue by the arm and hoisted her ungently to her feet.

“You must leave, Dr. Aldan, for your safety,” Jean-Claude said, once he regained composure. 

Asher stood with them, his body instantly transformed into rigid lines. “What has happened? She—”

Jean-Claude broke in with a rapid tumble of French. Asher’s face went blank, mirroring the Master’s non-expression. The only word she understood was ‘Narcissus.’

“He is right, Clearblue, you must go.” 

Jean-Claude nodded. “Claudia and Graham will see you out.”

“But why—”

“We do not have time.” He motioned the two bodyguards toward the door.

Graham fell in on Clearblue’s left and held her other arm. She cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder at Asher, who flicked his eyes to her, and then back to Jean-Claude.

“We have collected your brother as well; he is waiting for you at the side entrance,” Claudia said hurriedly.

Claudia and Graham walked her through the dim hallway away from the office, made a quick right turn into a short corridor she hadn’t noticed the first time, and down a steep flight of stairs. She would have thought herself in danger of falling, but Claudia and Graham kept firm hands on her, practically carrying her between them. They reached an imposing metal door at the bottom and Graham shoved it effortlessly, never breaking stride. Two more stoic, black-garbed men stood flanking Clover, who was instantly relieved to see her.

“We’ve got it, thanks,” Graham announced to Clover’s bodyguards. They nodded and walked through the door to the stairs.

Clearblue dug her heels into the pavement of the alley in which they now found themselves. “Just a minute,” she said, agitated. “I want to know what the hell’s going on.”

“Ditto!” Clover added, and after a pause, leaned into her. “Although I think you have a better idea than me,” he whispered.

Claudia and Graham exchanged glances. “Alright,” Claudia spoke for both. “I suppose you need to know, to protect yourselves. We’ll discuss it on the way to your car.”

“We didn’t drive here; we planned on taking a cab back, or possibly getting a ride with Catherine and Monica,” Clover said.

Claudia put her head in her hand. “Okay, call a cab then.”

Clover pulled his phone from his pocket and made the arrangements, his thumbs moving deftly over the device. His face was painted in the screen’s faint blue light when he looked up. “We’ll have a car in five minutes.”

“I guess that’ll have to do.” Claudia looked around the alley, then pointed to the brick wall behind them. “Stand over there in the shadows.”

Clover and Clearblue did as they were told, and the bodyguards joined them, wary.

“So?” Clearblue prompted. “Why did you bring me back there to feed Asher, only to be angry at it now?”

Claudia’s face was strained. “This is my fault; I should have been more specific with you. I brought you back to _heal_ Asher. He was weak from hunger and I assumed, as healing is your trade, that it would be your first course of action.”

Graham looked from Claudia to Clearblue, a grave expression on his face. “Now Narcissus has gotten wind of what happened. One of the hyenas came out of a bathroom on the balcony level and saw Claudia approach you and lead you into the private hallway. Narcissus inferred that you were brought for a feeding. We could’ve refuted her assumption if you hadn’t donated blood, as Claudia believed you didn’t. But since you have, and we cannot deny it, we’re in hot water.”

“Wait, wait a second—who’s Narcissus?” Clover asked, flustered.

“The Oba of the local cackle,” Claudia answered.

Clearblue's eyes oscillated as she tried to fit the pieces together. “But as far as Narcissus is concerned, I'm just some human Claudia found in the club.”

Graham shook his head. “Narcissus knows you’re a werehyena, among other things.” He turned to Clover. “Ask your brother.”

Clearblue raised eyebrows at him.

Clover looked at the ground. “Catherine had excused herself for a moment and I told J.J. and Monica that we’re panweres,” he said quietly, and then added, “But I don’t see how anyone else could’ve found out so quickly, or why it matters.”

“It _matters_ because Narcissus is on a campaign to make herself Asher’s animal to call, and she’s resorted to blackmail to do it. She’s forbidden her hyenas to feed Asher, forcing Asher to turn to the other were groups for blood, which they’re less likely to give because they aren’t his animals.” Claudia sighed. “As to how more people found out, Danse Macabre is crawling with wereanimals, and with that comes wereanimal hearing; obviously someone overheard and reported to Narcissus what you told J.J. and Monica. Narcissus put that together with Clearblue feeding Asher, and the result is that she now views Clearblue as a rival for Asher’s affection and position of animal to call.”

Her mouth fell agape. “But Clover and I aren’t affiliated with any of the local were groups—if we didn’t hear about Narcissus’s order, how can she hold it against me?”

“Since one of your animals is hyena, she expected you— _both_ of you—to have reported to her at some point. Yes, there are rogue wereanimals in this and every city, but they don’t go partying around town at known were spots. You’re either a closeted wereanimal or an open one.” She looked pointedly at Clover as she said the next. “If you’re telling people, even close friends, that you’re a wereanimal, it equates to being open about it. I hate to admit it, but I agree with Narcissus: you should have told the local groups that you two are weres.”

Clearblue stiffened, anger sparking in her chest. “That's absurd! We don’t owe other wereanimals anything,” she said indignantly. “We were born into this circumstance and it should be our decision who to tell.”

“How can you be so selfish?” Graham countered hotly. “This is how it works in the wild—animals form societies in order to further the species and achieve the most good for the most individuals. To deny that is to harm the group.”

Claudia put a hand on his shoulder. “Now’s not the time to get into politics.” She turned to the Aldans. “My point is this: had you notified the groups and been in the loop on the events of the larger were community, you would have known how better to handle the situation. As it stands, Clearblue, because of my poor explanation, you’ve now inadvertently challenged the leader of the third-largest animal group in the city by disobeying her order, and Jean-Claude and Asher will have to clean up the mess.”

**Chapter 9: So Close; So Far**

From their vantage point in the side alley, the guards and the Aldans saw a dark sedan roll past. By the sound of the breaks, it came to a stop around the corner of the brick exterior of the club, just out of eyesight.

“That’ll be yours,” Claudia announced. She looked to Graham. “Will you ride with them? I have some apologizing to do to Jean-Claude and Asher, not to mention damage control, if they’ll let me.”

He shrugged. “I’m just glad I’m not in your place.”

“Always good to work with you, Graham,” she replied in an exasperated tone.

There was no further discussion. Claudia turned on her heel and reentered Danse Macabre through the side door.

Graham extended an arm toward the mouth of the alley. “Alright, let’s go.”

They turned out onto the sidewalk and approached the cab; Graham held the rear door open for them before he took the passenger seat for himself. After Clover rattled off his address to the driver, the ride was silent. Clearblue noticed that Graham’s head swiveled between the side and rearview mirrors every thirty seconds or so. He was taking this very seriously, too seriously for her comfort.

The car stopped along the curb outside of Clover’s apartment building. He turned to her with a question etched on his face.

“No thanks, I’ll take my expensive mattress over your saggy sofa any day.” She jested in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He sighed. He knew her well enough not to argue once she’d made a decision. They both had stubborn streaks a mile wide. “Call me in the morning then,” he conceded, and then added with emphasis, “I mean it!”

She nodded and hugged him goodnight. The car idled until Clover got into his building, and then Clearblue gave the driver her own address. They hadn’t been driving for more than twenty seconds before Graham’s formerly nonchalant and easy surveillance became quick and stiff. Clearblue instinctually sucked in a breath.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He ignored her. She opened her mouth to ask again, but the car slowed outside of her complex.

Graham jumped out and grabbed her door for her, head moving like a metronome. She joined him and he waved the car away. Arm around her waist, he began to usher her hastily up to the front door.

“Where you going? The night’s still young,” a male voice called from some distance off.

Clearblue felt Graham’s body tense at the sound. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. He turned in a flash, pivoting her behind his body.

Three men of varying heights were walking casually up to them from a parked SUV, headlights still on. “You knew this was coming; I saw you spot us following your car,” the man at the forefront replied, and chuckled. “Give her up and we’ll play nice, even give you a ride home.” He grinned, as if adding incentive.

“You know I can’t do that,” Graham said softly after a beat.

The man nodded, then looked Graham up and down. “Whata’ya bench? About three-hundred?”

“About.”

“Me too.” He gestured over his shoulder to the muscle standing behind him. “Four-hundred, these guys. I’m trying to get myself up to their level: I run an extra mile every day, more protein at breakfast, but I’m still lagging behind.”

Graham clenched his fists. “You’ve made your point—I’m not gonna try to take on all of you.”

“Good,” he replied, satisfied.

“But I won’t just hand her over, either.”

“Just when I thought we could be friends. Alright, let’s talk straight: Narcissus has no issue with the wolves.” He nodded at Clearblue, who was peeking out from behind Graham’s shoulder. “ _She_ transgressed against Narcissus and she wants a face-to-face.”

“This is a bad move, man. Imagine how Asher will react if you take her by force, against her will. Narcissus is already starving him out; there’s only so much bad behavior he’ll tolerate. What if this is the tipping point?” Graham flicked eyes to Clearblue. “She healed his scars, and you know how Asher felt about his scars. Narcissus may command a powerful weregroup, but Clearblue’s endeared herself to Asher in a way that no one else could. Do you really want to be the trigger that sets him off?”

The leader of the little posse crossed his arms, thinking.

Graham continued, “What if Asher invites another hyena group to the city as competition? Or worse, what if he kills Narcissus? Every member of rank, fighting over who gets to be the new Oba. Is that something you want on your head?”

“You’re quite the talker.” He turned toward his fellow hyenas, who shrugged. “We’re at an impasse here. Narcissus deserves respect and to get her due, but it wouldn’t be wise to worsen Narcissus’s chances with Asher.” He sighed and stared hard at Graham. “If you’re so smart, what do you suggest?”

Graham’s body relaxed some. “I agree that Narcissus deserves to be heard. She was disrespected, and any wereanimal leader worth their teeth would do the same.” The hyena inclined his head. “I don’t have a suggestion for how to solve it completely, but what we should do in the meantime is invite Narcissus to meet us at the Circus. Asher and Jean-Claude should be witness to this, to avoid accusations after the fact.”

The foremost hyena stood for a long moment, arms crossed, looking first at Graham, then at Clearblue beside him. He rocked back on his heels, let his arms fall to his sides, and blew out a heavy breath.

“Alright. I agree.” He turned to his comrades. “You guys call Narcissus and tell her what’s up, I’ll drive these two over to the Circus, then come back for you.”

They grunted in assent, and Graham led Clearblue tentatively to the hyenas’ ride.

**Chapter 10: Rendezvous at the Circus**

Graham had called Claudia in the car, spoken cryptically so as to veil their conversation from the hyena in the driver’s seat, and received a confirmation call in return that all would be ready when they arrived. The hyena let them out beside the parking entrance to the Circus and zoomed off to retrieve the remaining muscle.

Graham knocked on the door and Claudia opened it not a second later, as if she’d been waiting for them on the other side.

She crossed her arms as she regarded them. “I guess you did the best you could.”

He scoffed. “Given the circumstances, I think I did pretty damn well. I talked them out of kidnapping her, didn’t I?” He tossed his head at Clearblue beside him.

“Yes. And confronting a wereanimal leader is best done among people who can influence the situation—if it must be done at all.” She stepped aside and allowed them to enter.

“How’re Asher and Jean-Claude taking it?” Graham asked as they maneuvered their way to the basement level.

“Not too badly. The consensus is that this is the best possible situation. Asher thinks he can diffuse Narcissus.” Claudia tugged open the thick door to the arching cavern.

“And failing that?” Clearblue asked.

“Failing that, you’ll have to submit yourself to Narcissus if you want to avoid an altercation.”

Clearblue scowled to herself as they walked in a line to the curtained area in the center of the cave: Claudia leading, Clearblue in the middle, and Graham behind. Claudia held the curtains for her as she stepped through. Again, she felt as though she was reliving the events of a month ago.

Her eyes landed immediately on Asher, not just because of their earlier encounter, but because he was dressed to captivate. For the first time since she’d met him, he wore his hair pulled back in a low ponytail tied with a shimmering white ribbon, undoubtedly to display the wonderfully symmetrical and sculpted angles of his face. The ribbon matched the white cotton button-up he wore under a bright gold blazer and pant set. The gold fabric shone in the light and gave him a twinkling aura. No one could miss him. He was the live, moving centerpiece of the room. Asher’s lips twitched and he shared a private smile with her.

Jean-Claude had downplayed his own outfit to give Asher their company’s full attention: he wore an uncharacteristically simple ensemble of black slacks and a dove-gray dress shirt. A black leather belt with polished silver buckle was the only point of glamour he allowed himself.

He clapped his hands. “We do not have much time before the hyenas arrive. Clearblue, I advise you to apologize sincerely and submit to Narcissus if we are to resolve this quickly.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means you declare her the dominant animal and agree to obey her in whatever she bids you.”

“You want me to defer to a person I’ve never met and assume a lesser position in an organization I don’t belong to?”

Jean-Claude nodded. “ _Oui_ , that is what we are asking.”

Asher added, “I know it does not sound favorable, but hopefully Narcissus will agree to let this incident go and you can return to being rogue.”

Clearblue sighed. “Fine.”

He looked to Claudia. “Would you?”

“Yes, sir.” She jogged over to the other wall of curtains and waved them apart in a flurry before her quick footsteps disappeared.

Jean-Claude turned his attention to Graham. “You did well when confronted. Although Claudia could have chosen her words better, no one foresaw this situation, and you acted perfectly. We appreciate it.”

The werewolf smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

Claudia returned in the company of ten more bodyguards—seven rat, three wolf. They spread out efficiently around the perimeter of the living room.

“I’ve instructed the others to wait in the hallway,” she announced to Jean-Claude, who nodded.

Clearblue looked around at all the quiet and expectant bodies. “Well, may I sit down?”

Asher smiled and extended an arm to the chair across from him. “Of course, _ma cherie_.”

“Oh, I really prefer that she not,” echoed a voice from beyond the curtains.

**Chapter 11: An Oba and a Hard Place**

A figure in a form-fitting red leather dress, black fishnet stockings, and chunky black platform shoes stalked through the sheer curtains without so much as lifting a finger to part them. At least six hyenas followed, and spilled into the living room in a kind of messy oval around their leather-clad leader.

Clearblue didn’t know what to make of the individual she took to be Narcissus, who was wearing a dress and expertly applied makeup, but had black hair cut close on the sides and left in longer feathery ruffles on top, wide shoulders, and the strong jaw of a man. Even the voice was ambiguous: high for a man, low for a woman.

That strangely hypnotic voice chimed again, “Why, you must be the outsider causing all this trouble.” Narcissus walked up to her, stood so close that their torsos nearly touched, caressed her cheek with black-varnished nails and ran scrutinizing eyes over her person.

Clearblue nodded. Narcissus was quite beautiful, and exhibited an unexpected grace in movement, above what she would expect even of a wereanimal.

Asher stepped forward and placed a hand on Narcissus’s shoulder. “Thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

Narcissus gave Asher a slow once-over, taking in every inch and going back for more. “You didn’t need to get all dressed up for me, sugar.” She stroked a hand down his arm. “Though I’m flattered.”

He smiled tightly. “I am glad for that.” Narcissus’s eyes lingered on him, particularly the right half of his face, and he added, “Shall we commence with business?”

“That’s why we’re here.” Narcissus sat in the chair that Clearblue would have taken and demurely crossed her legs.

Left without a seat, Clearblue stepped out of her heels and sat on the floor with her legs tucked beneath her. 

Asher looked to Jean-Claude; the Master nodded imperceptibly, and Asher addressed Narcissus. “Let me come straight to the point of why we are holding this conference. When a security guard brought Clearblue into the office at Dance Macabre, the intent was for her to imbue me with strength using metaphysical healing, which is her gift. However, there was miscommunication to this end and she offered blood instead. Surely you understand that Clearblue was unaware of your mandate; she did not willfully disobey you.”

Narcissus’s formerly open expression turned piercing. “What I _understand_ is: she and her loose-lipped brother are wereanimal enough to show up at a preternatural club and socialize with known friends of the were community—and I’m supposed to believe they _aren’t_ wereaminal enough to treat my order with the severity it deserves?”

“If I may?” Jean-Claude interjected. “As owner of Danse Macabre, I do not market it as a ‘preternatural club.’ On the contrary, my motive was to provide a space that allows humans, metaphysicals, wereanimals, and vampires to mingle with one another. In Clearblue’s defense, one does not have to be a wereanimal to be a patron of my club,” he said calmly yet sternly.

Narcissus stared first at Jean-Claude, then at Asher. “People who frequent Narcissus in Chains are into BDSM or rough play—usually both. People go there _because_ it caters to certain tastes. The same is true of Danse: the majority of clientele are vampires and wereanimals; consequently, the humans who patronize Danse do so _because_ they know they’re likely to _meet_ vampires and wereanimals. By my reasoning, Danse Macabre is a preternatural club that allows humans. Do you deny it?”

“No,” Asher replied gently. “We do not deny it. However, the larger point here is that Clearblue was ignorant of our current . . .” he searched for the right word— “conflict. She and her brother are not involved with the local were groups; they had no way of hearing your order.”

Narcissus stared at Asher some long seconds, eyes smoldering. “Ah.” She finally stood and walked across to where Asher sat on the white loveseat. She towered over him in her platforms while he remained stoically seated. “But you were not ignorant. Even if all you say is true— _you_ knew she was a hyena, and _you_ were fully aware of my edict. And yet you fed on her blood.” 

Asher didn’t verbalize an answer; he merely stared at Narcissus from inches away wearing his blank vampire mask.

That was answer enough. In response, a whine trickled from her lips that started low, but grew higher as it grew louder, until she was nearly straddling Asher with her head thrown back, pouring that eerie wail to the ceiling. After a moment, her entourage of hyenas did the same: they filled the cave with layer upon gut-wrenching layer of the mad chortling that was their trademark call. The sounds bounced around and reverberated a good five seconds after they finished, followed by oppressive silence.

“Did he even hesitate?” Narcissus asked in a quiet but cold tone, still hovering over Asher.

When no one replied, she turned in a flash and was suddenly standing over Clearblue. Narcissus slapped her so hard and so quickly that she was thrown to the ground by the force without even raising an arm in defense.

“Answer me when I speak to you!” she shouted.

Asher and Jean-Claude were simultaneously on their feet. Jean-Claude took a step forward, but a hyena blocked his path and the next instant the Circus guards fell in, standing like football players on the balls of their feet between Jean-Claude and Asher and the hyenas.

Clearblue pulled herself to her knees, one hand pressed to her inflamed cheek. “No.”

Narcissus slapped her across the other cheek, this time with the back of her hand. “Speak up!”

“No!” Clearblue repeated loudly. She blinked back tears that had sprung up with the sting of the blows. “I apologize for disobeying your order,” she said, refusing to let her voice waver.

Narcissus stared down at her as a cruel smile curled slowly over her lips. “Do you, now?”

She nodded. “I didn’t know Claudia wanted me to heal Asher. I offered him my blood, and I shouldn’t have. I apologize.”

Narcissus cocked her head and studied Clearblue for a long moment. “I do not accept,” she said, breaking off her syllables to give each its own edge.

In a blur of leather and fishnet, she brought her knee up hard under Clearblue’s chin in a sickening _crack_ that rocked her violently backward. Asher yelled wordlessly, and tried in vain to push through the wall of guards when her head smacked against the stone floor and she crumpled like a rag doll.

**Chapter 12: Serengeti Showdown**

Narcissus ignored Clearblue lying in an unmoving heap behind her and instead rounded on Asher. “We’ve come down to the truth, then,” she snarled. “You didn’t even try to dissuade her from offering blood—you _chose_ her over me!”

Asher attempted a soothing tone, despite his visible distress. “Narcissus, please do not think—”

The Oba loosed another deafening wail, effectively drowning him out. “I’ve had enough of your games, Asher. For _years_ I’ve made it clear to you what I want, what I can bring to the table. It’s entirely superficial with you, isn’t it? Now that you’ve gotten your face back, you’d rather have an equally pretty face on a traditional woman than gain the political upper hand with me.” She spit on the floor in his direction. “Tell me, really, what can she possibly contribute? She has no lycanthrope connections, no experience as a leader in the were community—” Narcissus laughed bitterly— “we don’t even know if she’s a dominant, for fuck’s sake.”

“I suppose we are past the niceties now,” Asher murmured. “You are determined to have this out, one way or another.”

“ _Ne fais pas ça_ ,” Jean-Claude warned.

Asher shook his head. “ _Assez_. If not now, when?” He turned a cold gaze to Narcissus. “I respect you as a were leader. You contribute nearly as many individuals to our guard as the wolves without any of the metaphysical benefits. You devote time and manpower to the Wereanimal Coalition, for which I know Micah is grateful. The problem, Narcissus, is that I do not want you as a lover, nor will I ever. Your bedroom trade reminds me of what I suffered while at court with Belle. Yes, Jean-Claude and I practice BDSM on occasion, but I love and feel safe with him. I feel neither with you. Had you not required that I take you to bed, I would have made you my animal to call. But as your demands are now, I cannot agree. This blackmailing business has only proved to me more than ever that you are not the person I should have at my side—beating and humiliating Clearblue will not bring you any closer to your goal.”

Narcissus pursed her lips as she regarded Asher. “Thank you for your candor. I—” A shrill clucking interrupted her. Narcissus turned to see Clearblue on her feet standing with squared shoulders. “Welcome back to consciousness, dear.”

Clearblue was too angry to form a reply. Her hyena paced arid, grassy terrain, sliced its tail through the air, back and forth, its ears pressed against its head, whining and breathing audibly. She had never felt such hostility from this particular animal; then again, she’d never been in the presence of another hyena other than Clover. Certainly not one so nasty. Her hyena barked in assent: _Yes, nasty. A vicious leader is one with insecurities. Let us end this._ Clearblue was accustomed to keeping her animals in check, suppressing their natural aggression—but for the first time, she had no disagreement with her hyena’s inclination. Excited at this prospect, it bared its teeth in a bloodthirsty grin.

She slackened her grip on the beast, and felt its energy billow up and out of her body, a haloed hologram of glowing tans and browns. It fixed black bulbous eyes on Narcissus and heaved out a guttural yowl that echoed jarringly against the rock walls.

Everyone stopped and cast eyes to Clearblue: the other hyenas fell silent, frozen where they stood, and the Circus guards, no longer reacting to imminent danger, relaxed ever so slightly. 

Narcissus stepped closer to her. “So you do have a backbone.”

“What I have,” she said with weight, “is a livid hyena itching to claim a piece of you.”

Narcissus smiled, and managed to look at once beautiful and menacing. “Then let it out.”

She shifted in a blink. One second she was standing with a hand haughtily to her hip, the next she was a beast crouched amid scraps of red leather, lips pulled back to reveal ivory canines that dripped long strings of saliva to the floor.

Clearblue let go completely. She closed her eyes and the suspended, ghostlike energy of her hyena descended into her body and pushed out through her flesh. Bones reshaped, muscle twisted, smooth skin gave way to hide and fur—accompanied by a ripping sound as her dress tore away at the seams.

Narcissus lunged as soon as Clearblue had four paws on the ground. They tumbled head-over-tail in a keening ball, claws and teeth rending skin. Narcissus pinned her with her forelegs and tried to sink teeth into her neck, but Clearblue shoved her hind claws into the Oba’s soft belly and rolled away, gaining a whimper from Narcissus for her trouble. She chased Narcissus in a wide circuit and snapped at her ankles and rump, but Narcissus was fast, and Clearblue unaccustomed to fighting.

Narcissus pivoted on a dime, and was suddenly behind her, claws burrowed into her back before she could even turn around. Clearblue squawked but shook free, doubled back and sent Narcissus into defense again. She ran hard alongside her, mouth agape and aimed at her legs. Finally, her teeth hit home: she bit deeply into the meat of the Oba’s thigh, and rode her to the ground with a rough _thud_.

Clearblue lifted her head and wailed as she held Narcissus down. Teeth already bloodied, she bared them again and arched back for a damaging blow—but halted mid-motion when Narcissus covered her muzzle with a paw and mewled pathetically.

**Chapter 13: Consequences**

Clearblue released Narcissus and she scampered a yard or two away before she lay down on the floor, snout atop her forepaws. The other hyenas looked to one another in astonishment, unsure of how to proceed. For her part, Clearblue jumped and bounded and kicked out her back legs, cackling triumphantly.

She trotted past the hyenas and the Circus guards, who stepped out of her way in a hurry, stood before Asher and nuzzled his waist. Asher smiled down at her and scratched her ears. She maneuvered around his hand and stuck her nose up under his blazer; he massaged his fingers into her chin. She grunted and exhaled heavily.

Jean-Claude grinned. “Ah, _mon ami_ ,” he interrupted softly. “I believe she is asking for your jacket.” He pointed across the living room to a frayed pile of blue fabric. “Her own clothes are destroyed.”

Asher looked to him, then down at Clearblue. She waggled her head affirmatively. “Oh!” He laughed. “Yes, of course.” He shrugged out of the blazer and draped it around her.

She shifted back to human form, slid her arms through the sleeves and buttoned the front. The pin that for the entire evening had held her hair in a tight French twist had been thrown who-knows-where when she turned. Her locks, now free and loose, hung down to her chest in long chestnut ripples that seemed luminous against the gold of the jacket.

Clearblue remained by Asher’s side and took in the room full of wereanimal eyes trained on her. “Now what?” she whispered to him.

“I am not entirely sure.”

Ever the pragmatist, Jean-Claude announced to the room: “Asher, Clearblue, and I need to adjourn to private quarters.” He glanced at Claudia. “Please take care of our guests in whatever they require.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded.

He gave a shallow bow to the gathering. “Thank you. I will be back in shortly.”

Clearblue and Asher followed him through the curtains, down the hallway and into one of the many sitting rooms—this particular one done in lilac and white. She sat in a plush purple fabric chair, her legs folded beneath her so as not to expose herself. Asher sat nearby; they both watched Jean-Claude stride from one wall to the other, hands clasped behind his back.

Clearblue spoke up, “What’s the problem here?”

“The problem,” Jean-Claude replied with agitation, “is that you have just defeated the hyena Oba in a dominance battle.”

She knew he wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t significant, but as to what it actually _meant_ , she was clueless. “So?”

“That leaves you—us—with very few choices. The hyenas will no doubt expect you to take over the clan.”

“ _What_?” She sat up straighter, eyes bulged at Jean-Claude. “I was defending myself! Did Narcissus expect she could attack me without a response?”

“That is exactly what she expected,” Asher replied softly. “She did not think you were strong enough to retaliate; she thought she could bait you and get away with it.”

Jean-Claude stopped in the middle of the room and went still. He turned to Asher. “Please, tell me you did not.”

Clearblue waited for him—either of them—to explain. Keeping up with vampire conversation was more difficult than one would think.

Asher paused and looked solidly back at him. “I knew she was strong, but I tell you honestly, I did not know for certain she could win against Narcissus.”

Jean-Claude spoke slowly, “But you thought it was possible.”

“I did,” Asher replied, unfazed.

Jean-Claude closed his eyes and resumed pacing. Clearblue took that as her cue. “Is he implying that you didn’t warn me about Narcissus because . . . you _wanted_ this to happen?”

“That is what he is implying, _oui_.”

Her voice climbed an octave when she asked, “Is it true?”

Jean-Claude looked pointedly at Asher and crossed his arms.

He nodded. “ _Oui_.”

Clearblue’s mouth fell open.

“Jean-Claude and Anita know very well how I feel about Narcissus, and now you have experienced firsthand how volatile she can be.” He sighed and moved to her, knelt before her chair. “Let me explain something to you, Clearblue. You have a personality that radiates stability. You heal for a living—you make people whole and mend rifts caused by trauma. Every wereanimal group should be so lucky to have a powerful, level-headed leader with your disposition. Narcissus, as you heard, runs a BDSM club; she causes pain and revels in it. We at the Circus and the other were groups tolerate her because the hyenas are strong and numerous and make for good allies, but if we had another option . . .” He looked up at her earnestly and took her hand. “Please believe that I did not _want_ to draw you into this.”

She stared at him, quiet with shock. “When you tested my hyena during your healing . . .” The cogs and wheels in her brain turned ever faster. “It was out of desperation.”

“ _Oui_.”

“Before tonight at Danse, had you planned to lead me into this?”

“ _Non_.”

“But, when the opportunity presented itself, you purposely didn’t give me all the information when I donated blood because you secretly hoped this would happen.”

“ _Oui_ ,” he whispered.

Clearblue put a hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. “Jesus, Asher. —Do you have a phone I can use?”

“You may use mine,” Jean-Claude said, and produced the device from his pocket.

“Thanks.” She dialed a familiar number and wished for an answer. “Pick up, pick up . . .” she muttered.

“Clear?” Clover’s voice was thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

She launched into Naturial, the language they’d created when they were children to talk between themselves without their parents overhearing. It sounded like an Asian dialect fused with Spanish or Italian—hard consonants and rolling vowels. “ _Clo, I need your help,_ ” she said, her words rapid and bunched.

There was ruffling in the background and Clover groaned. “ _Okay, I’m up. What is it? And why are we using Naturial?_ ”

“ _Because I’m at the Circus of the Damned and Jean-Claude and Asher are in the room with me_.” The vampires in question swiveled their heads in her direction when they heard their names. “ _After Graham and I dropped you off, we were ambushed by hyenas; they wanted to take me to confront Narcissus but we negotiated to meet here instead. Narcissus angered my hyena and we fought. I won, and Jean-Claude and Asher are saying that it was a dominance challenge and wereanimal politics dictate that I take over the hyena clan_.”

“ _I am not awake enough for this shit. What time is it?_ ” Another groan. “ _Quarter of three_.” He exhaled and sent his breath through the phone in a crackling wave. “ _Alright, stay there, I’m coming over_.” He didn’t wait for her to reply before he hung up.

**Chapter 14: To the Rescue**

Word passed to Graham to expect Clover Aldan’s arrival at the Circus, and he awaited him in the parking lot. Jean-Claude excused himself from the sitting room to speak with the hyenas about their next course of action—and cast a sideways glance to Asher as he did so.

Clearblue remained in her seat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. She wasn’t sure what aid Clover could give her, but she hadn’t known what else to do.

Asher cleared his throat softly. “May I fetch you more . . . substantial clothing?”

He startled her from her thoughts and she looked at him, eyes focusing sluggishly. “Oh—yes, please,” she said with effort. Her mouth had gone dry.

He stood and bowed slightly, then exited the room. Two minutes later, neither vampire had returned and Clearblue was alone when Graham opened the door and showed Clover in.

“Thank you,” Clover said to him. Graham closed the door as he left.

Clover seldom looked like hell, and Clearblue was amazed to see that dragging him expeditiously out of a deep sleep did not make for one of those times. He was dressed in the clothes she had first seen him in earlier that day: his gray sweatpants and white undershirt. Knowing him, these were probably picked up off the bedroom floor on his way out. If not for the faint circles under his eyes and tousled hair, she wouldn’t have known he’d been sleeping at all.

“So, what’s with this hyena clan?” he asked, and sat across from her on the white sofa. What he lacked in punctuality he made up for in calm confidence. The casual tone in which he addressed her made her want to shake his shoulders and burst into tears of frustration.

She took a breath to resist doing just that. “Jean-Claude said that because I won in a fight against Narcissus, the hyenas will probably want to insert me as their new leader.”

He blinked. “And?”

She looked at him with wild eyes. “What do you mean, _and_? I don’t want to be! This is crazy.”

Clover rubbed a hand over his face. “After I really woke up and thought about this in the car, I decided that I don’t think taking this position with the hyenas is a bad thing. Yes, you’re uninformed about wereanimal politics, but you can learn. Think about what a boost it’ll be to your practice. You have plenty of human patients, but Asher was the first non-human you’ve treated since moving back. Non-humans are probably leery to reach out to you because they don’t know about your lycanthropy. If you take the hyenas up on their offer, you’ll make a name for yourself in the were community, and in turn be able to help who-knows how many more non-humans who aren’t as brave as Asher was.”

“But—”

“But what?” He sat forward. “I’m glad I told Monica and J.J. about us.” He leveled his eyes at her, and hesitated a brief moment. “Finally _telling_ someone was such a relief. Mom and Dad never made us feel ashamed about being panweres, but they didn’t encourage us to befriend other wereanimals, either. It was something we didn’t talk about much, and I have to say I’ve come to want that interaction with others like us. Haven’t you?”

“Well . . .” She thought about it. “Yes, I suppose.”

“I mean, Claudia was right—if we’d been plugged into the city’s were community you could’ve avoided this mess.”

“But now that I _am_ in this mess I should accept it? Is that what you’re arguing?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Why not? I’m tired of living like a human when I’m not, and I think you are too.”

She crossed her arms. “Well then why don’t _you_ be the new Oba?”

Clover grinned. “No one’s offered.”

“And to that end, I am afraid they will not,” Jean-Claude said as he reentered the room. “Hyenas are matriarchal. Narcissus was ambiguous enough to pass, but given the opportunity, they want someone female.”

Clover looked from Jean-Claude to his sister. “Well there you go, Clear.” He stood and walked to the vampire, offered his hand and smiled. “Clover Aldan.”

“Very nice to meet you.” Jean-Claude smiled in return and shook his hand warmly. “I am Jean-Claude, Master of the City.”

Asher then walked through the door, arms full of shirts, shorts, and pants—which he nearly dropped upon seeing Clover. “ _Bonjour_ ,” he said, recovering quickly. “You must be the other panwere.”

“I am. And _you_ must be Asher.” Clover approached him and instinctively relieved him of some of the awkward load he carried. “This is quite the situation you’ve created for Clearblue.” He grinned boyishly. “I won’t have to fight you to preserve her honor, will I?”

“I should hope not.”

Asher allowed himself a discreet visual tour of the new Aldan: Clover easily stood over six feet, had a toned runner’s build, an irrefutably masculine jaw, and thick brown hair that captured light like a prism. It was surprising how simultaneously similar and unique they were. The resemblance was undeniable, yet Clearblue’s rounder face and delicately sculpted cheekbones contrasted so with the rough angles of Clover’s countenance. And how Asher would love to have both.

**Chapter 15: Pow-Wow**

Asher and Clover spread out the clothes on the coffee table that was the focal point of the arranged furniture. Clearblue scanned the articles quickly, plucked a pair of black fabric shorts from the pile, and moved behind the large chair to slip them on. Clover tossed her a light blue spandex camisole with built-in bra. She turned her back to them to take off Asher’s blazer and drew the exercise tank over her head. There was extra space through the bust—most definitely Anita’s—and she had to pull the shirt down further to make the material lie smoothly over her breasts.

Comfortably dressed in more suitable attire, Clearblue rejoined them and addressed Jean-Claude. “The hyenas?”

He looked at her unflinchingly. “They want you as their Oba.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Surely there must be an exception to the rule.”

“ _Non_. Wereanimal politics state that if you do not have aspirations to be the new leader, you do not fight the current one.”

“Come on!” She threw up her arms. “ _She_ challenged _me_. Everyone saw it.”

Suddenly, an inquisitive expression passed over the Master’s face. “Yes, while we are on the subject: why did you feel the need to fight back?”

She stared at him like he’d gone temporarily insane. “She struck me, unprovoked.”

Asher nodded at Jean-Claude. “Ah, _oui_.” Then he addressed Clearblue, “How did your hyena react, specifically?”

“When I came back to consciousness, she was so angry—I’ve never experienced that kind of aggression from, well, any of my animals, really. She told me that Narcissus was unnecessarily cruel and she wanted to put an end to it.”

“Told you?” Jean-Claude asked.

“Not _told me_ , literally . . . she made me aware of her feelings.”

Asher continued, “And how do you think other hyenas would have reacted in that situation?”

Clearblue shrugged. “Similarly.”

He shook his head. “Submissive animals react with fear and anxiety when provoked by a dominant. Only other dominants react with anger and indignation. The behavior your hyena exhibited was that of dominance.”

His words hung in the air and seemed to crystallize outward. “What are you saying?” she asked almost under her breath.

Asher held her with his eyes. “That this is not a mistake. Female hyenas are more aggressive than the males, and Narcissus made it a point to keep her clan mostly male. The only females she allowed are extremely submissive, and therefore low within the hierarchy. You won that fight because you are the first dominant female she has come within proximity to in years—and as such, the rightful new Oba.”

Clearblue gave an exasperated groan and ran flustered hands through her hair as she repeatedly walked the length of the left wall. “How badly do the hyenas want me?”

“Very,” Jean-Claude replied.

“Then here’s my answer: I will agree to do it, on the condition that Clover joins me.”

Clover stuck two fingers into the air in a kind of mock-salute. “Uh, come again?”

“If you’re so encouraging of this, you should help me,” she snapped, and glared at him.

He opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it when she hardened her glare, and shrugged instead. “True. Alright.”

Jean-Claude and Asher shared a glance. “That is not how it works.” Asher said after a pause.

“I don’t care.” Her words were clipped, her tone sharp. “It’s either Clover and me together, or they’re stuck with Narcissus.”

Jean-Claude nodded. “I will convey your demand.” He left the room.

Clearblue’s pacing became faster and more determined. A storm of mixed emotions brewed in her chest, pressed against her lungs, and tightened her ribs. She was angry at Clover for convincing her to go out that night, angry with Asher for his scheming, and angry most of all at that goddamned arrogant Narcissus for piquing her hyena. And yet, somewhere within her internal shadows, in the deep crevice of her hindbrain where her animals lurked in their respective caves, her hyena grinned and laughed happily, sending haunting echoes through her head. Her shoulders began to heave, and hot tears flooded her cheeks. The evening had started out so simply: meeting friends for a birthday celebration—in what kind of world did innocent plans spiral this far down the rabbit hole? Someone touched her arm, and she looked up into Clover’s concerned face.

“Aw, Clear, it’s not that bad. I think you’re tired and overwhelmed.” He brought his arms up and held her. “And of course I’ll help with the clan.”

She turned into him and laid her cheek against his chest as she took a series of deep breaths in attempt to control herself. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Asher approached them cautiously. He moved in close and put a hand on her shoulder. He stood there with them a moment, stood and meditated to the soundtrack of Clearblue’s sniffled breathing. When his voice came, it was hushed and gentle.

“I was genuinely taken aback when you walked into the office with Claudia. In an instant, everything fell into place in my mind; all I thought about was how much easier my life would be if I had an Oba whom I respected, whom I could relate to.” He paused and set his drenching, ice blue eyes on hers. “Whom I cared about. It seemed perfect. But I realize it was unfair not to discuss it with you, and I apologize.”

She retuned his gaze, searched through his beautiful face now creased with grief, and nodded. She wrapped her arm around his lower back and drew him closer. Clover reached his arm out as well and rested the inside of his elbow rested against the back of Asher’s neck, and his fingers just touched Clearblue’s shoulder. They remained together, limbs clasped around each other, silent and unmoving, as Clearblue’s tears slowed and then stopped.

**Chapter 16: An End and a Beginning**

When Jean-Claude returned five minutes later, the three of them were sitting casually: Clearblue and Clover together on the sofa and Asher across from them in the overstuffed purple chair. He had replaced his gold blazer and looked impeccable as ever. The twins conversed quietly among themselves, Clover doing most of the talking while Clearblue nodded occasionally. He lingered in the doorway until she raised inquiring eyes to him.

“They request a week to think about your proposal. I assumed they would need some time; your condition is unconventional—though after functioning with Narcissus for so long, I suspect they are more accommodating than most were groups.”

“Oh,” she replied. She looked as if she had more on her mind, but kept it to herself.

“Well who’ll run the cackle until they decide?” Clover asked.

Jean-Claude shrugged. “Perhaps Narcissus, perhaps one of the more dominant males, perhaps a group of them together. I do not know. I tried to gain some insights as to their short-term plans, but they were quick to tell me that it was not my concern.”

Clover stood and pulled Clearblue up with him. “Then we can go home?”

He nodded. “Yes.” He glanced at Asher as he said, “It has been a long night. The hyenas have already gone; they were getting anxious to report back to the rest of the clan. I will be in touch when they return with a decision.”

He stepped aside as the Aldans walked to the door with Asher behind them. The Master caught his Temoin’s arm as he passed, and scanned his face. The two looked at one another for an extended moment until Jean-Claude, satisfied, released him.

The twins had reached the door to the great cave, and Asher was halfway to them when he turned back to Jean-Claude. “Are you not going to escort our guests?”

“ _Non_. Anita has just returned from a particularly arduous raising and I want to update her on tonight’s events. You know she will want to hear it from me, and in a timely manner.” He paused and smiled knowingly at him. “I leave our guests to you.”

Asher grinned and bowed, then turned on his heel and kept pace with the Aldans.

They walked through the living room, which was now scattered with cups and plates—apparently the hyenas had kept the guards busy—and Clearblue spotted her red stilettos beside the pile of cloth that was once her dress. She knelt and sifted through the remaining blue scraps and gold buttons.

“I doubt you’ll be able to salvage it,” Clover said from behind her.

“I know.” She sighed and looked at him over her shoulder. “I bought it only a few days ago, to go out in tonight. And now it’s ruined.”

“You can always get another dress. No worries.” He smiled cheerily.

“Yeah,” she muttered, and grabbed her heels from the floor as she stood.

The cold air of the parking lot was heaven. The Circus was an adequate temperature, but just being out in the elements again, above ground, felt wonderful—even in the skin-baring clothes she wore. She reveled in the chill breeze that blew through her hair as they walked over the pavement toward Clover’s black Civic.

His car was one of only a handful, and he unlocked it remotely as they approached. Clearblue opened a rear door and tossed in her shoes. _Déjà vu_ number three: saying farewell to Asher in the Circus parking lot. Though this time there were three of them, and she would likely see him again in the near future.

Clover was the first to break their paralyzed silence; he offered Asher his hand. “It was good to meet you, even for the circumstances.”

“ _Oui_.” Asher took his hand and smiled. “It was. Jean-Claude and I will let you know as soon as we hear from the hyenas.”

He clapped Asher on the back before he climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Clearblue alone with the vampire.

Asher spoke first. “Once again, I am at a loss for words. I can only thank you for everything you have done for me tonight, and hope you can forgive my selfish actions.”

A wisp of a smile crossed her lips. “I have a feeling no one can stay angry at you for very long.”

“While this is true—” Asher stepped closer and mirrored her smile— “I still apologize.” He touched one hand to her shoulder, wrapped fingers around the back of her neck, leaned in and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Drive safely. I will be in touch, _cherie_ ,” he whispered.

Clearblue nodded. And then, because she couldn’t resist, she stood on her toes and kissed him. He smiled wider as she walked around to the passenger door and climbed inside. She watched his silhouette recede and finally disappear as they exited the parking lot and turned into the street.

As soon as the Circus was in the rearview, Clover grinned at her. “You weren’t exaggerating. He _is_ unbelievably sexy. Hot damn.”

She had no choice but to burst into laughter. “ _That’s_ what you have to say after the night we’ve had?”

“Well, I wasn’t dreaming about anyone half as attractive when you called me. I’d say all in all, this has been a pretty interesting night.”

“ _Interesting_ isn’t my choice word, but we’ll go with it.”

“I’m talking about at Danse Macabre. You saw how J.J. was acting around you, right?”

“I’m not blind and she wasn’t subtle, so yeah, I saw it. What about it?”

“That we’ll have quite the buffet to choose from if we become more involved with Jean-Claude’s circle.” He ticked off names on his fingers. “There’s Monica for me, J.J. for you, and Asher for . . . I guess we’ll wait and see.”

She snorted. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way he looked at you earlier. I hate that we have the same taste in men. —And what do you mean, Monica for you?”

“She was giving me hardcore bedroom eyes tonight, and she’s flirted with me ever since she started at the university.”

“I noticed the bedroom eyes, but you haven’t been with a woman in years.”

“Four years, to be exact, but that doesn’t mean I’ve sworn them off forever. Jean-Claude seems to surround himself with very attractive people.”

“True, but perhaps we should prioritize? Like getting this hyena thing figured out before we start dibs-ing the Master’s posse?”

Clover sighed. “Spoken like a true square.” He dug his elbow playfully into her ribs.

**Chapter 17: An Unexpected Visit**

Clearblue pulled the plug from the drain of her bath and stepped out onto the fluffy oval rug, grabbing the towel from the rack as she did so. She dried herself quickly, then twisted the towel around her hair and pulled on her white cotton nightgown. It was covered with a delicate blue and pink flower bud design, and strong light rendered it completely sheer, but it was one of the more comfortable pajama items she owned.

She usually showered in the morning, but tonight required some relaxation after a long and nerve-wracking day of taking on two new patients and trying—and failing—to keep up with Clover’s deluge of texts debating the pros and cons of sleeping with Monica Vespucci. How he found the time to send her twenty texts in a day and carry on with his full schedule of classes, she’d never know.

Clearblue walked into the kitchen and loaded her dirty dinner plates into the dishwasher, downed the rest of her red wine and fit the glass in as well. She turned on the machine and straightened the counters and table a bit before she returned to the bathroom and took off the towel. She ran a wide-toothed comb through her hair so as not to disturb its natural wave and left it to air-dry.

She had locked up her apartment for the night and was just settling into bed with a book in her lap, when the doorbell rang. She instinctively glanced at the bedside clock: 9:17 p.m. She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone, but climbed out of bed anyway and walked briskly but silently to the front door. A peer through the peephole relieved her worry, but confused her: Asher stood on the other side, with both hands tucked behind his back. She opened the locks and pulled the door slowly.

“Good evening,” he said with a smile.

“Asher. What are you doing here?”

He raised quizzical eyebrows at her. “You are not pleased to see me?”

“Yes, of course, but—have the hyenas decided?”

“Still anxious about that, I see.” He chuckled. “ _Non_. They have three days left before we expect a response.” He paused. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yes, please.” She held the door wider and he entered, then she closed it behind him. Whatever he hid from her rustled as he moved.

Clearblue turned on a few lamps in the living room to make the apartment more welcoming. “So, what could warrant a visit from a master vampire?” she teased, and then added, “And how did you find my address?”

“Graham.”

She nodded, and then looked at him expectantly.

In answer to her first question, he withdrew his hands in a flourish: in one he held a bouquet of red roses interspersed with baby’s breath, in the other, a long indigo dress covered in a clear plastic drape, and a small bag bearing a jewelry store logo.

Clearblue gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “What’s all this?”

Asher set the jewelry bag atop the coffee table and pulled the protective cover from the dress and its hanger. “I have been thinking on the events of last Friday, and remembered that you and Clover were at Danse Macabre in the first place celebrating your birthday. I also remembered that I failed to give you a gift. I am here to do so.” He grinned and cleared his throat melodramatically. “Happy birthday, Clearblue.” He presented her the bouquet.

She buried her nose in the flowers, reveling the lovely scent and the feel of their velvety petals against her cheeks. She raised her head and beamed at him. “They’re beautiful! Thank you.”

He bowed, then reached for the roses. “I will put these in water if you will don the gown so I may see how it fits you.”

She blushed. “I’d love to.” She took the garment from him and hurried into her bedroom. “Vases are in the kitchen cabinet over the stove,” she called through the door.

Before her dressing mirror, she peeled off her pajamas and drew the gown over her head, slipped her arms through, and let it fall the length of her body. It was without a doubt the most elegant article of clothing she had ever worn. The work in the details was exquisite: it was fashioned entirely of fine-spun silk of solid shining indigo, with narrow stripes of gold embroidery along the horizontal neck and bottom hemline that matched the gold of the shoulder straps.

The fishing-line-thin straps could not have supported a heavier fabric; the silk was not only supple, but seemed to glide upon her skin and felt like almost nothing. The gown also fit her like a glove—in all the right places: the neckline, which lay five inches below her collarbones, and into the bust was doubly thick to ensure her nipples did not show, yet hugged the curves of her breasts. It contoured tightly to her midsection until it reached her hips, where the material fanned out slightly into loose, flowing pleats that ended at the tops of her feet. She bundled her hair to one side and turned around, looking over her shoulder at the back. She gasped again. The nape of her neck to the small of her back was left open in a smooth arc of bare skin. The gown came together again in a point, a whisper above the beginning of her buttocks. A gold string dangled at each shoulder blade and needed to be tied together to complete the effect and fully secure the back of the dress, but they were a tad too high to reach herself.

She exited her bedroom and walked the short hallway to the living room. The airy bottom portion blew back as she moved, creating a stream of silk that trailed behind her. Asher was seated on her sofa, the roses arranged neatly in a vase on the coffee table.

His eyes widened when he saw her, endowed with the same heat she had witnessed in the office at Danse. “ _Cherie_ . . .” He stood and ran his fingers lightly down her sides, drinking her in from head to toe. “You have—it looks—that is to say . . .” He grinned at his own faltering. “You are ravishing.”

His expression thrummed through her, and a growing warmth formed south of her navel. “Thank you.” Her voice crackled with husk and weight, and surely betrayed her thoughts to him.

Asher turned away from her slowly, his eyes lingering as long as they could. “Let me . . .” He reached for the jewelry bag perched on the sofa that she, in the midst of everything, had forgotten.

He retrieved two black satin boxes, one square, one rectangular. He opened the square first, which contained two inch-long sapphire drop earrings outlined in polished gold. He set that box on the table and opened the second: inside was a magnificent sapphire pendant the size of a quarter, also in a drop shape, suspended on a delicate gold chain.

“Oh, Asher.” Clearblue blinked down at the pendant in awe.

The stone’s many facets gleamed in the light as he spilled the necklace into his hand and undid the clasp. “May I?”

She nodded and turned around, lifted her hair so he could see her neck. She felt him pause as he glimpsed the long perfect line of her back, and smiled to herself. “Can you tie me up, too?” she asked.

“ _Oui_.” That heat had crept into his voice.

He placed the pendant gently on her upper chest, and she heard the _clink_ of metal on metal as he fit the ends together. She inhaled sharply as he grazed fingertips up her spine before he grasped the gown’s strings and tied them into a taut bow. With that final tightening, the material cinched her breasts and made visible their every curve and heft. He touched her shoulders and turned her to him, moving back to take in her full presence.

Asher shook his head slowly, gaze dripping with admiration. “Look at you, _ma saphir_.”

**Chapter 18: Fruition**

Clearblue took a breath and held it. She waited for Asher to return his gaze to her face—she wanted to see that intensity in his eyes again. Finally, his raised them to her countenance, and his expression was smoldering. She exhaled in a quick puff of air that morphed into a giggle.

His focus broke somewhat and he smiled. “What are you thinking about, _cherie_?”

She took a step closer to him, then another, until only a slim column of space separated their bodies. “How much I like the way you’re looking at me.” The sultry tone of her voice wiped the grin from his face and replaced it with such fervor.

His fingers played along her arms, cupped her elbows, and all at once he pulled her against him. Their mouths met and moved in an aching frenzy, harder, until his fangs scratched her lips and she felt a hot thread dribble to her chin.

She pulled away, hand under her mouth. “The dress,” she said.

“We should get you out of that.” His voice was gruff with desire.

Asher scooped her into his arms and strode hastily to her bedroom. No sooner were her feet on the carpet than he had untied the bow at her back and slid the straps from her shoulders. He drew the material over her hips, and she stepped out of the gown as it pooled at her ankles. Once she was free of the garment, he moved at vampire speed—she caught only streaks of color and movement—as he arranged it on its hanger and stowed it in her closet.

When he came to a halt close in front of her, she saw that he had also removed his shirt and undone his belt. She backed up against one of the tall wooden bedposts as he wrapped arms around her now-naked waist. They resumed where they had left off: tongues and more blood mingling as they kissed with eager recklessness. She pulled off his belt and stuck thumbs under the tops of his pants and boxers, and tugged them down his legs. Her eyes flew immediately to his groin, and the sight of his arousal amplified her own. Her world narrowed down to his body pressed against her, hard and willing.

She caressed a hand along the length of his erection and felt him shudder. She dabbed a finger to her still-bleeding lip and smeared the blood along her neck. She wanted him inside of her in every way possible. Asher leaned down to her and smiled, and it held everything she wanted to see reflected in his face. She drew her left leg around his hip, her knee perched at his pelvic bone, and held his base as she angled him. The head of his erection pushed her apart carefully, tenderly, and she sucked in a breath at the sensation of him advancing. He pushed deeper inside her as his lips moved in a slow arc to her neck until, in that moment when he filled her completely, he bit into her flesh and she screamed as the first orgasm hit her like a brick wall.

Endorphins and adrenaline raging, Clearblue grabbed the bedpost with both hands and wrapped her other leg around him as he cupped her buttocks in support. She thrust her hips with his, the pressure compounding, until the bed shook with them, and the fleeting notion that they might break it passed through her head.

“Mattress,” she gasped.

He needed no further instruction: he licked her neck clean and pulled her upper body against his, holding her with one arm under her ass and one across her back, and took two steps to the side of the bed. She felt him move inside of her as he walked, and ground her pelvis harder into his. He moaned, and tipped her backward down to the sheets, then climbed up and centered her on the large bed.

She reached back and held the headboard in a white-knuckled grip and kept her legs affixed to his waist. He thrust deeply, and it knocked the breath from her lungs. In this position, he touched every part of her, rubbing her roughly just the right way, and they both cried out with mounting pleasure.

“May I . . .” Asher strained for the correct word as he drove into her.

Clearblue didn’t know what he was asking specifically, but she didn’t care. “Yes,” she uttered between jagged breaths.

He quickened the pace, and the combination of speed and force quickened her, too. That dropping sensation, the implosion that precedes the explosion, began in the pit of her abdomen and her head lolled on the pillow. Her back arched, and her elbows locked in a vice grip on the headboard. Down and down, spiraling—and the next instant, it swirled upward, surging toward the surface. Her pleasure blossomed out in a white wave that sent her eyes rolling into her head and bowed her back. She screamed wordlessly, emptied everything into the air.

Asher collapsed atop her. She kept her legs around his hips, holding him in, and moaned her contentment softly at his ear.

“Clearblue,” he said as he caught his breath. He hoisted himself up on his elbow and gazed down at her a moment before he smoothed hair away from her face. “ _Ma saphir_.”

She grinned. “What does that mean, anyway?”

Asher kissed her forehead, then each cheek, and finally, her lips. “My sapphire,” he whispered.


End file.
